Dirty Little Secrets - C. J. Omololu [44]
As I walked up our street, I looked in the windows of the houses I passed. I could see people sitting down to dinner, or the blue glow on the walls from the TV.
The Callans a few houses down had their curtains open, and I could see the Christmas tree all lit up by the window. I was sure Mrs. Callan would be in the kitchen cooking, waiting for Mr. Callan to come home. Hanging out in their house had made me realize that not everyone had parents who loved their stuff more than they loved their kids.
The air smelled like a campfire, and I thought about how nice it would be to sit by a warm fire on such a cold night. Maybe we could get the fireplace working again once everything was done. Phil and I would keep a big stack of wood on the porch and feed it to the fire every time it started to die. Maybe we could have regular movie nights in the winter, where we’d invite people over, make popcorn, and sit in front of the fire, watching movies with all the lights off. At this point I should have probably stopped with the “maybes” and “what-ifs,” but whenever the now got bad, thinking about the future always made me feel better.
chapter 11
5:30 p.m.
“Lucy!”
I stopped dragging the green bin across the dining room and listened. It was high and faint, but it was definitely my name. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my heart beat faster.
I pulled down my face mask. “Mom?” I whispered cautiously, and immediately felt ridiculous. I had to be hearing things. Since I’d only put on lights in the dining room, it was pitch black in the rest of the house now—and starting to get a little creepy, if I let myself think about it. I slowly tiptoed out of the dining room and down the hall, trying to calm myself. Mom was definitely dead the last time I looked. No amount of moving her stuff around and looking in forbidden boxes would turn her into an angry ghost. At least, that’s what I hoped.
I got to the back hallway and flicked on the overhead light. The sheet was still there. I swallowed hard and tried to reason with myself. This was crazy. Whatever I was hearing, it definitely wasn’t Mom calling me. At least not from the hallway.
I walked back to the dining room and started moving boxes again. As I was stuffing some newspapers in a garbage bag, I heard it again. A small voice calling my name.
“Stop it!” I yelled out loud this time. I was starting to panic when movement at the window caught my eye. Before I could react, the curtains parted, and TJ stuck his head through them.
“Hey!” he said. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“Man, TJ,” I said. My knees wobbled with relief, and I felt like I had to sit down. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Did I?” he said, not looking ashamed. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you or anything. I yelled and stuff.” He scrunched up his nose and looked around. “What stinks?”
I ignored that last statement and crossed the room until I was standing above him at the window. “What are you doing out there?” I peeked out the window and saw him standing on the stack of plastic bags. Only TJ wouldn’t think to ask what a giant stack of plastic bags was doing along the side of the house.
He looked around the room. “Are you moving or something? Who’s going to babysit me when Mom goes out?”
“Knock it off,” I said. “We’re not moving. I told you, I’m just cleaning up some stuff.”
“Cool.” TJ looked behind him. “Can I come in?”
“No!” I answered just a little too quickly. “You can’t come in. It’s not a good idea. You said yourself it stinks in here.”
“I didn’t mean it. Come on,” he said. “I can help. Plus, you said you’d see if you could find some of Phil’s stuff for me to go through.”
I hesitated just long enough for him to see the crack in my resolve. TJ was one of those kids that spent his free time wandering the neighborhood waiting for someone to ask him to come over. Whatever the reason, he